


Rites and Wrongs

by PeachyPansexual



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anya did the Cayde deed instead of Uldren, Heavy Angst, he still dead too though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:54:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23208088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyPansexual/pseuds/PeachyPansexual
Summary: When your mentor goes off the rails and cuts a bloody swathe through the Tangled Shore under the influence of a reality warping monster-dragon, what can you do? First off, last rites.
Kudos: 7





	Rites and Wrongs

They’d made camp for the evening in a hollowed-out asteroid and Iwelan had taken first watch, fully expecting a quiet night. It wasn’t called the Tangled Shore for nothing, and while it made navigating to find the scraps of data the Spider wanted from her mother a gargantuan pain in the ass, it meant hiding out for a night was easy. Iwelan and her unit took advantage of that fact and settled in as comfortably as they could inside the glorified giant boulder.

And then something went thud on top of it. One of her compatriots, an Awoken woman named Miria, looked up at the sound and then to Iwelan, then laid a hand on her gun, the silent question clear in her glimmering green eyes. 

_ Fight them off? _

Iwelan shook her head, certain that who or whatever it was would pass soon. The signal dampeners were working, the cloaking devices had all been triple checked, and nobody had any reason to believe there was something inside this specific rock that looked exactly like all the other millions of rocks floating in the abyss of the Reef. 

A muffled voice above them could be heard, as could the faint crackling of arc energy. Yirik, the Psion in the group, fiddled with one of the machines nearby and boosted the sound from outside for them to hear. 

“--certain you caught the signal coming from around here?”  _ Synthesized voice, most likely an Exo. Clearly distressed, too, _ Iwelan thought to herself.

“I’m positive.”  _ Another person, voice more obviously synthesized. Older Exo or possibly a Ghost. Ghost and Guardian, if the arc spikes are any indicator. _ The second voice continued, “it was just a flicker, but definitely from here and definitely the one Maya told us to look out for if we needed their help again.” The asteroid’s inhabitants all shared a look.  _ They know Mom? _

“There’s nothing  _ here,  _ Terra! Just miles and miles of barren rock!” The Exo’s voice cracked and another rumble or arc energy shook their hiding place. “I can’t just leave her here. Someone will find her and decide they still need their pound of flesh from a goddamn corpse and… Ilya, I’m sorry. I thought I could do this one thing right for you two.” Another rumble and crack, strong enough to throw Iwelan off balance and leave everyone tasting ozone.

“I’m going out there before she cracks the camp open or sets this damn thing adrift. A hundred glimmer says that’s the Guardian that scared the shit out of Tev a couple weeks ago.” Iwelan said and scuttled towards the nearest cloaked opening. 

“What if you’re wrong and get shot to pieces for being ‘Fallen’?” Miria hissed. “Why’d you even bring me if you won’t let me talk Guardians into leaving?”

“You can talk her down if she shoots me, but I’ve got this.” She replied flippantly, even as she readied her wire rifle in case she was wrong, and hauled herself up to the top of the asteroid.

The distraught Warlock was pacing the top of the asteroid, arc energy curling and spiking around her with each step, and Iwelan could feel the raw, destructive power even from as far back as she stood. Her nerves hummed under her carapace knowing that she could be burned down to molecules by that energy. Equally distressing was the corpse in the Exo’s arms; another Warlock, but she was an Awoken woman, her robes in tatters, her vibrant purple hair lank and falling out of an elaborate updo, and her chest stained dark red with blood. The Exo had clearly come looking for the Objectors for help though, dressed in robes that imitated their own colors, alone and relatively vulnerable with her arms full. Despite her own fear, Iwelan stepped forward, slinging her weapon over her back and raising her four hands slightly in an attempt at a calming gesture.

“Your Ghost was right.” She said gently, trying to not startle their guest too badly, and trying not to stare back at the dead woman’s blank golden eyes boring into her. “We’re here. We can still try to help with,” she glanced down at the corpse, then back up, “whatever happened.”  _ Rook? Prentiss? Deadeye? Seemed like nobody could decide when they were talking about her. _ Rook looked her up and down, still tense, but the arc energy had stopped curling around her every footstep. Iwelan took that as a good sign. “It’s quiet out here, but it’s not terribly safe to stay out in the open. Come down into camp, we can set up a transmat to get us all back to the main Objector ketch.” She held out a hand. “I can take your friend so you can get inside without falling.” Rook pulled the dead woman closer, more out of instinct than distrust if Iwelan was reading her right, because after a moment she stepped forward and hefted the body a little higher for her to take.

“Okay. Thank you.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

Rook was exhausted. Physically, emotionally, hell maybe even metaphysically if that was possible. Like her Light was wearing down to ragged edges after sparking out all over the place after… After...

“Take your time, kid. You don’t need to get it all out all at once. You’ve been through a lot the last couple of weeks.” Maya said. Her youngest Eliksni daughter was the one who’d brought Rook back to the Objectors, the first people who’d actually listened to her or Anya’s Ghost during the whole debacle. No questions asked, they said, and they’d listen as soon as she was ready to talk. Admittedly, she wasn’t ready, not even close, but it needed to be said, it needed to be heard and understood, and she wasn’t going to make Ilya do it alone.

“We were able to move quickly, at least. The other Guardian had cleared the way pretty thoroughly. Even the Fanatic was nothing but a smear when we passed him.” Rook managed to continue. “I should have been faster though, because I thought we were going to get there in time to intervene and--” Her voice cracked again in spite of her best efforts to keep it level. A pulse of warmth filled her chest as Terra did his best to offer her a little bit of comfort. It wasn’t like she was really sad enough to warrant not being able to fucking speak, nor was she actually very close to Anya. Maybe it was the selfish thought that  _ she _ should have done better, should have  _ been  _ better, but worse was the injustice of it all, the sheer blind ignorance of Anya’s so-called friends and their refusal to see anything but Good and Evil, Martyr and Traitor. It made her blood boil.

“We watched her hit the ground when they shot her.” Ilya quietly continued for her. “I… I tried to resurrect her while Rook talked to the other Guardian and Petra Venj, but it’s like she was… empty. Whatever they had killed had ripped everything out of her. Light, Dark… everything. She wasn’t my Guardian anymore.” Rook’s arc energy lashed out again as she recalled the way Ilya begged his Guardian to come back while he tried in vain to revive her.

Rook picked back up with a bitter scoff. “I didn’t talk to them, I screamed at them. If they’d stopped for ten seconds to just  _ think _ . Hell, if they’d just asked Ilya what could have made her do this, they’d have gotten a fucking answer! It’s not like I had to drag it out of him!” Her Light arced and sparked through the dim room, illuminating the white and blue shroud over her dead mentor. Several of the Objectors examining Anya jumped at the sound. Maya watched her calmly, not even so much as flinching from the largest crack of arc energy, then placed a hand on Rook’s shoulder. Firm enough to be comforting, light enough that she could pull away if it was too much.

“I remember what they were like,” Maya said gently, but there was a touch of bitterness to her voice, too. “Us and Them was a big part of the beliefs in the Tower, and they had to convince themselves everything they did was Right, because if they looked at themselves any closer, they’d realize they hadn’t actually changed much from the Warlord days. I’m sure they didn’t want to think about the fact that it could have happened to them, or that it might have happened because of them.”

“It’s stupid!” Rook snapped and shrugged Maya’s hand off. “It’s shortsighted, and stupid and…” She hesitated, the weight of Maya’s words actually sinking in after a moment. “And you learned that lesson the hard way too, didn’t you?” The Objector Archon smiled sadly and nodded.

“Another story for another time, kid, and mine is just one of hundreds. Thousands, maybe.” She explained. “But let’s focus on this one for now. What are the chances that it ends with whatever creepy critter that Guardian killed?”

“Slim.” Ilya said. “Something she said to Rook during one of their clashes, ‘Oh Apprentice mine’? Isn’t something she’d have ever said. I’ve got suspicions about what could have given the Fanatic his bizarre death powers, dug that deep into Anya’s head, and given her the edge it did before…” He sighed shakily. “Before it was done with her. And if it was talking like that through her, it’s not something that one Guardian could kill single handedly, at least not without months of serious preparation. But the Ahamkara are supposed to be extinct.” Maya’s brows knit together before she nodded again and then seemed to decide on something.

“Alright. Well, when you’re ready I’d like whatever details you can give me on that. If it really was one of those goddamn space dragons, there’s a chance the Fanatic isn’t really gone yet, smear or not,” she said, then turned to Rook and fixed her with a very serious look. “You’re the one who worked so hard to get your mentor to us specifically. Why?” Something caught inside Rook’s chest. It was a good question.

“I… I’m not sure. I couldn’t think of anywhere else that she’d be safe from…” She fidgeted with the hem of her robe, unable to look Maya in the eye.

“Retaliation?” The old woman offered helpfully.

“Yeah. She’s been through enough, hasn’t she? Does she really deserve to be dug up and desecrated after basically being driven to suicide by proxy because of whatever got in her head to dangle the dead, unrequited love of her life in front of her like bait?” More arc crackled around her and she choked out a bitter laugh. “I almost considered loading her into my ship and launching her into the sun since there’s no way she’d have wanted to be buried on Earth.”

“If it’s alright, we could induct her to the House posthumously. Oepix and I, and our attendants will be performing rites for the fallen tonight, and one more body to convert won’t be a big deal.” She glanced back at where her people were tending to Anya.

“Convert? To what?” Rook asked, hoping it wasn’t nearly as ominous as it sounded.

“Ether. When our organic members die, their bodies are given to the Servitors to become Ether and sustain the rest of the House. Their strength becomes ours. In the case of our Eliksni and Lightbearers, that’s very much literal.” Maya explained and held up a hand. Mist appeared and swirled in her palm, simultaneously like sunlight cutting through stormclouds and cold steam rising off of snow. In an instant, it dissipated and Rook looked back up to Maya. “Aether is what I’ve been calling it, it manifested with me first, but I’ve been teaching members of our House how to use it as well. And whether or not you ever use it, even if you just hold onto it to remember her, we can still craft a token from our Light and the some of the ether she’ll become.” Maya’s tone stayed gentle and even, and she laid her one organic hand over where Rook’s had curled into fists in the worn edges of her robes.

The something that had caught in Rook’s chest a moment ago swelled almost painfully and left her at a loss for words. Her vision blurred, unexpected for a number of reasons, and she looked to Ilya. “I- she- ...Ilya, she was your Guardian, what do you think?” She asked, voice suddenly embarrassingly thick with tears. Terra offered another pulse of warmth in her chest as she wiped at her eyes.

“I think… I think it’s a good idea.” He chuckled bitterly. “Hell, if we’d been fast enough, I think she’d have liked to learn to use it herself. This seems like the next best thing, and probably the most respectful thing that we can do that won’t… leave a loose end.” He said slowly, clearly still processing. Then he nodded, bobbing in the air somewhat unsteadily. “Yes, I think that’s our best option. Do it. Please.”

“Alright. If you change your mind before tonight, just let someone know and we’ll figure something else out. I don’t want any of you to feel pressured. Until then, Ethan here will walk you through your part at the rites while Tevres and the others prepare the bodies. I’ll see you all this evening.” Maya sighed and stood up, something clearly weighing on her. “I need to gather my strength.”

\-----------------------------------------------------

The central chamber was only dimly lit when Rook helped the Archon’s attendants lay Anya out, still wrapped neatly in the white and blue shroud bearing the House’s emblem. Rook had also been given a set of ceremonial robes as well as Anya’s old, battered warlock bond, a stark blaze of teal and black against the crisp, plain white. Both Ilya and Terra had been offered plain white shells shaped almost like lilies and emblazoned with a blue Objectors sigil. Terra had politely declined, as he was more comfortable staying on Rook’s person, but Ilya had accepted it, as well as the role of acting as Anya’s posthumous voice. He said he figured he should look the part if he was going to be accepting a place for her in their House. 

Ethan had explained to them that the Archon’s procession would enter, address everyone gathered, and then break off into small groups off the central platform to make their way through the bodies that had been prepared, and convert each into Ether. Maya and the Lightbearer attendants would be responsible for enriching the Ether somehow, and creating talismans for new Lightbearer Objectors who were ready to take the first steps towards mastering Aether. All Ilya and Rook had to do were accept on Anya’s behalf and “remain open enough to let the Archon guide your Light into shape,” whatever that meant. She’d been instructed to try and meditate on what honoring the fallen’s memory would mean, what it would mean to remember her, and what using her new powers in Anya’s name would look like.

Unfortunately all she’d been able to think about--dwell on, more like--was the injustice of it all. Anya had basically had her heart ripped out of her chest and dangled in front of her, only to be killed out of blind anger. Justice had turned into revenge, revenge had turned into more pain and anger and shame. For Anya, for the people Anya had hurt, for the people the Guardians had killed, even for Rook, whose Arc was still freaking out whenever she thought about the whole shitshow. She didn’t want that anger to shape whatever powers she got, but it was too soon to be able to forgive yet. She seriously considered just leaving before everything started so as not to give that anger a chance to fester. Anya had her voice, she didn’t need Rook anymore, and Rook needed space. A lot of it.

“New defector?” A deep, gruff voice broke her out of the rapid downward spiral. She’d been so in her own head, she hadn’t even noticed the massive Cabal woman who had settled next to her. “Name’s Gharal. You?”

“Uh… Still up for debate? Rook, Prentiss, Deadeye, take your pick.” She replied stiffly. Gharal looked her over, gaze coming to rest on the bright purple ‘scar’ over the Exo’s left eye.

“Deadeye seems a good fit. So you’re the one who gave the Rising a scare the other day, right? Whole House has been buzzing about you nonstop.” Gharal asked and idly scratched under one of her tusks. “Usually the scav patrols are better at telling what’s dead-dead and what’s Guardian-dead. Still, you’re back and didn’t shoot up the place, so obviously we didn’t hurt your feelings too bad.”

“Yeah, it was a big surprise all around. Probably the weirdest thing to happen to you guys all year, yeah?” Rook chuckled awkwardly. It felt forced and uncomfortable, but stilted conversation with the massive stranger wasn’t nearly as bad as if she’d kept ruminating. Gharal chuckled in return.

“Second weirdest. First place goes to the Hive platoon who’d joined a few months back. Pleasant surprise, that.” The old woman smiled. At least, Rook figured it was a smile judging by her tone. Then it faded as she laid a hand on the large, shrouded figure she was kneeling next to. “Or it was. Until Hiraks got his claws into them.” Gharal sighed and looked around the room, then continued softly. “Everyone in the House felt it when that Witch and her entourage went berserk. Everyone lost someone to the Mindbender and his ilk.” Rook’s gut twisted uncomfortably as she followed her gaze. There were easily two hundred shrouded bodies of various sizes laid out around a raised central platform, spread out like ripples across the circular room. Each of them had at least one person kneeling next to them, most had two or three, and one heartbreakingly tiny shroud had six robed figures huddled tightly around it, clinging to each other and trying to stifle their sobs. 

“Are there usually this many… people during these ceremonies?” She asked. The old Cabal woman barked a bitter laugh, drawing a few stares from other mourners.

“Not even close.” She sighed and quietly swore in a language Rook didn’t recognize. “But you’ll have all the time you need to ask questions later, after you’ve had time to settle in and mourn your friend.” She said, then gestured to a door that just opened on the other end of the massive room before Rook could explain that she didn’t think she’d be staying. “For now, looks like we’re getting started.” 

First through the door was a massive Servitor, likely Oepix Prime that Ethan had mentioned, and with its appearance the room fell silent, save for the occasional choked sob. The Prime was followed closely by several smaller Servitors and about twenty figures of different species. Massive Cabal and Eliksni, Humanity races of all different kinds and sizes, and a few diminutive Psions, all dressed in elaborate ceremonial armor polished to a bright white that was nearly blinding even in the dim light. Each took their place around the raised platform and kneeled as the Archon stepped forward to take her place in front of the Prime. She raised her arms and was bathed in a literal ethereal light by Oepix. Rook could almost see the effect as comical, given how brightly Maya glowed under that light, not to mention she was the smallest person on the stage and it made her look comparatively childlike, especially under the massive Servitor.

Until the Archon spoke.

“ **Objectors! We gather to honor our lost, our fallen!** ” Oepix was doing… something to her, boosting her voice somehow, but it looked like it was speaking  _ through _ her? Her eyes seemed to glow underneath the elaborate helmet, and her voice resonated through the room and straight through to Rook’s core. “ **The Fanatic, and all his followers, sought to lay us low by striking at our very hearts! They thought to weaken us and twist our dead against us!** ” The others gathered on the platform echoed her words and her raw, trembling fury, each in their own languages. The voices overlapped and filled the massive chamber with the sound of their anger and grief, and in the center of all of it was the Archon, radiating ethereal white light and the rage of hundreds of dead souls, like their vengeful collective phantom. “ **But we will not submit! They were not the first to try and sunder us, they will not be the last, but who will remain? Who will stand tall against all treachery, and against the coming Darkness on the horizon?** ” 

“The Objectors!” Kell Ateskriks’ voice rang out behind them, unaltered, but just as clear as his wife’s. The other mourners echoed him, again and again, in a dozen languages building to a furious, agonized roar. The thud of a staff rang out, silencing the crowd before the Kell spoke again. “Our bravest souls lie at your feet, my Archon. Return them to us, let their memory strengthen our hearts. Let their bodies strengthen our foundations.” With that, Maya bowed and the guards posted around the room struck their staves against the floor again.

The Archon’s attendants were bathed in the same light as their leader before they split off into seven groups of servant and servitor, each moving to the furthest edges of the prepared bodies. Maya remained where she was and raised her arms, prosthetic, organic, and the extra mechanical ones meant to imitate the Eliksni. There was a subtle shift in Light where the Archon activated her powers and, to Rook’s surprise, Aether began pouring from all four of the woman’s hands. One of the attendants that remained on the platform with her followed suit, raising their hands and letting shimmering clouds of Aether flood across the floor. The pearlescent fog rolled out over the bodies, through the makeshift paths between them, all the way to the furthest edges of the stadium-sized room. Moments later, the Kell’s guards struck their staves again, making Rook jump.  _ Thud, thud. _ Each Servitor group moved to its nearest cluster of mourners.  _ Thud, thud. _ The Archon servants quietly addressed the living, while the Servitors converted each body with a low rumble that echoed through the room.  _ Thud, thud. _ White shrouds fluttered to the floor, empty of remains, as the Servitors collected the intermingling ether and Aether. Rook suppressed a shiver that was only half in part because of the forming frost on the edges of her robes. Each group worked almost in sync and seven empty shrouds became fourteen, then twenty-one, all while the guards kept up the slow, heartbeat-like rhythm.

“It’s rude to stare, Deadeye. If the Archon can hold out long enough to get to you, then you can too.” Gharal grumbled next to her. “And she’s too damn stubborn not to hold out.”

“What do you mean?” Rook asked. On the platform, the first Lightbearer attendant was lagging and finally dropped their arms. Another was quick to take their place in front of Maya, whose brow was furrowed in concentration and beaded with sweat.

“I already told you. There’s never been this many in one ceremony before.” Gharal explained softly. On the platform, the first exhausted Lightbearer was being checked over by the others and having food and water pushed on them.

And then her view was blocked by one of the Servitors and a pair of Psion priests. They moved to Gharal and addressed her gently while she stood in a stiff salute. Rook forced her gaze back to the fog swirling on the floor in front of her and quietly cursed herself for eavesdropping.

“Bregh Tu’an, Primus of Objectorship Kileks-Fel and first of the Cabal to Object. Mastermind of the Silent Strike, first protector of the civilian liveships, and slayer of Hiraks’ puppet witch. Gharal Tu’an, sister to the Primus, do you return him to the foundation?” One of the Psions asked. 

“Forever remembered, returned to strengthen our foundations.” Gharal replied, her voice rougher than before. They repeated it back and the Servitor rumbled as it bathed the massive shrouded body in light. She dropped back down to her knees with a shuddering breath as the shroud sagged and floated to the floor, and she grabbed at one edge, holding it close to her chest while the Servitor moved on.

Rook went back to focusing on the swirling aether in front of her, walking the tightrope of minding her own business and staying out of her own head. Her attention was caught by the entourage on the platform moving down into the room and making a beeline for one of the three remaining shrouds; the tiniest one, with the group of six. One moved forward, Ghost hovering at their shoulder as the Archon addressed them directly. Rook’s gut twisted anxiously. 

“You don’t have to take the token. Maya said she didn’t want to pressure us into this.” Terra said quietly over her internal comms, offering yet another pulse of warmth in her chest. “Ilya can handle his part, if you’re worried about being too angry to do right by all of this…”

“I’m  _ terrified _ of it.” Rook whispered, hoping nobody would hear her over the thrum of the last bodies being processed. “If I take these powers and just use them to inflict more… more pain? How does that make me better than her killers?” She sighed. “Not to mention I feel like an intruder here, bringing the corpse of the woman responsible for all these bodies.”

“Their Archon invited you.” Terra insisted. “They wouldn’t have prepared intruders.” Somehow, watching Maya and her troupe of clearly exhausted Lightbearers, that thought didn’t offer any comfort.

They were finished with the other two Lightbearers receiving their tokens, and were finally making their way towards Rook, Ilya, and what remained of Anya. Arc energy hummed inside of her and she did her best to suppress it as they settled across from her.

“ **Before us lies an Objector, dead before she could embrace us. Ghost Ilya, you act as your severed Guardian’s voice?** ” Maya asked, her voice still resonating with whatever it was Oepix Prime was doing to her.

“I do, gladly.” Ilya said, his own voice pained, but determined. He was bathed in the same light as Maya before she spoke again.

“ **What is the name of the fallen?** ”

“Anya Veronika Chernikovna.” Ilya’s voice rang through the chamber as clearly as the Archon’s.

“ **Who was she?** ” 

“Shield and guard to Queen Mara Sov, a Hero of the Red War, and single-handed slayer of the Court of Oryx.”

“ **Her greatest Objection?** ”

“The abuse of loyalty and unconditional love.”

“ **And her greatest sin?** ” Maya asked. Ilya hesitated and anxiety clawed inside of Rook’s chest. A single curl of arc energy popped across her clenched fists before he answered.

“The murder of Hunter Vanguard Cayde-6 and alliance with the Fanatic and his Barons.” Ilya finally said, unflinchingly and unapologetically enough that Rook almost heard it in her mentor’s voice. A rush of whispers swept through the gathered crowd and the anxious knot in her gut had turned into a tapestry of terrified tangles.

“ **Objectors! Will she be forgiven?** ” The Archon asked the hundreds of people who had every reason to hate the woman wrapped neatly in front of her. Another crackle of arc went off that Rook couldn’t suppress, along with a klaxon of  _ ‘this was a terrible idea, this was a terrible idea’ _ ringing in her head.

“Yes.” The gruff, gravelly voice next to her affirmed. Rook’s head whipped around to Gharal, who was still holding onto her brother’s shroud and fixing her with an unreadable look. “She will be forgiven.” Gharal said, louder. More affirmations echoed through the room. Another beat from the Kell’s staff silenced the room.

“The sins of the past will not define the future!” He called out, and the gathered mourners echoed him before being cut off by another beat.

“ **Ghost, do you accept her place with us?** ”

“I do.”

“ **And you, student of the fallen, will you carry her Light? Will you strive to redeem her memory with this power granted from her, by leave of all gathered here?** ” The Archon finally asked Rook.

Rook opened her mouth.

And couldn’t force anything out.

Seconds passed like eons, and nothing came out.

“Hey. It’s alright, kid.” Maya said, her voice gentle again. The strange light from Oepix had dimmed, and she was back to just being the old woman who’d laid a comforting hand over her own a few hours earlier. “I know it’s a lot to ask. You don’t have to say yes if you’re not ready. You don’t have to use it if you do. It’s just a symbol. It just means that you’re finally home. But only if you want to be.”

The anxiety that had been roiling inside of Rook finally released and the relief hit her like a walker dropped from orbit. Tears spilled unbidden down her cheeks and froze on contact with her carbon fiber shell and the ether-choked air. She swallowed, then nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’d like that.” She finally managed. Maya reached up with her good hand and wiped away the frozen tears, before resting her upper hands on Rook’s shoulders. The Lightbearer attendants laid their hands on the Archon’s shoulders and their Light flared weakly as it pooled around her.

Maya’s lower hands gathered a swirling mass of aether and passed it through the ether flowing out from under Anya’s shroud as Oepix converted the body, gathering more and more mass, before she cupped Rook’s hands and let the swirling ball of fog settle in her palms. Her upper hands dragged gently down Rook’s arms and she could feel her Light following the trail that Maya’s fingers traced, until all four hands cupped her own and the ball of ether and aether flared with Light. Four hand pressed her two together, and Maya leaned in close.

“Hold tight and focus on what it will mean to remember her. It’ll form, you just have to guide it.” She whispered.

As Maya’s hands pulled away from hers entirely, it felt almost like the little ball would wisp away between her fingers. Rook pulled it closer to her chest and closed her eyes, clasping her hands together even tighter, willing something, anything, to form.  _ Sins of the past will not define the future, sins of the past will not define the future. Come on, do something already! _ Anger roiled inside of her at the sheer injustice of everything that had happened to Anya.  _ Dammit, I won’t let you be remembered as a monster! _ Memories flashed through her head of her mentor, their first meeting, the lessons on the Dreadnaught and in the Crucible echoed heartbreakingly in their final clashes, invitations to her clan’s outings to maintain their sanity. Through all of it, Rook clung to the memories of Anya’s firm-but-fair manner, her distant demeanor that masked a deep capacity for kindness, possibly even love, and the fact that she deserved better. 

In her hands, the energy shifted, suddenly so cold that it burned. Rook pressed her hands tighter together despite the pain.  _ Sins of the past won’t define the future. I’ll tell them about you someday. Me and Ilya will tell them about you someday. You won’t be a monster.  _ The pain passed, soothed by the cool, hefty weight that rested in her hands. 

“Welcome to the fold, Objector.” Maya said as she stood up somewhat unsteadily. Her attendants parted to make way for her as she headed back up to the platform. 

Rook was distantly aware of the Archon wrapping up the ceremony as she turned over her new token in her hands. A tiny miracle. A memory. A chunk of ice, hard as diamond and not showing any signs of melting. A core of glowing Aetheric Light swirled under the deceptively delicate-looking shell, and Rook could almost make out shapes in the fog if she looked close enough. Ilya hovered closer to examine what remained of his Guardian and Terra materialized to join him.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. I’d bet my best shell there’s at least a dozen groups in the Tower who’d kill to get a scan of that thing.” Ilya said and, after catching the looks that Terra and Rook gave him, added, “Not that I plan on telling anyone about it or our friends here. That’d require going back, and I… I think I’d like to stay here. Try and see if I can make myself useful.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Terra said, and flicked his gaze over the token. “Y’know, from this angle it kinda looks like a heart. Anatomical, not cartoon. See, there’s the ventricle, there’s the aorta… Uh, anyway.” Rook turned it over to see it from his angle.

“Huh. You’re right. Kinda fitting, I think. I don’t know, I could probably explain it later. In a year or ten, once this isn’t all so…”

“Fresh?” A new voice above them startled all three of them. “Everyone else has cleared out, I figured I should show you the best exit.” A massive Eliksni dressed in the same ceremonial armor as Maya addressed them. “It’s Tevres, in case you didn’t remember or recognize me. The one you scared the shit out of a couple weeks back?”

“Right! Yeah, um, thank you. And sorry, again.” Rook said, hoisting herself up off the floor with the hand that Tevres offered. She shrugged as she led them out of the door that the Archon and Kell had just disappeared through.

“It’s not as though you did it on purpose. Although if you had, that would have been a fantastic prank.” Tevres chuckled. “Ilya, you should talk to one of Oepix’s line. They’ll find you a good spot, if you’re serious about finding a place with us.” 

“Oh, um, yes. Thank you, I’ll be sure to do that.” he said. Tevres nodded and then turned to her parents.

“You’re clear, mother. Everyone else has dispersed, so no after-ceremony questions this time.”

Maya sighed in relief as she rolled her shoulders, shaking off the stiff, noble posture she’d been holding for the last hour, and then leaned heavily against a nearby wall. Kell Ateskriks helped her remove the massive ceremonial helmet and passed it to Tevres before scooping up his exhausted, and in comparison to him, tiny wife.

“Return that to its place. I will bring the rest down after I convince your mother to settle down for some proper rest.” He said, and was interrupted by a soft snore. Maya had already curled up against his chest and passed right out. He brushed a strand of silver from Maya’s forehead and let his hand linger on her cheek. “For once, it should be an easy job.” The smile was clear in his gentle tone, and Rook suddenly felt like she’d walked in on something she shouldn’t have seen.

“Of course.” Tevres said, and gestured for Rook and the Ghosts to follow her as the Kell swept off in the opposite direction.

“So, uh. Does she always pass out like that after a funeral?” Rook asked after a few minutes of navigating the halls of the ketch.

“No, that was a first. Not entirely unexpected, though. We’d never sustained losses like this before. A little more than a dozen at most. Combined with the fact that she did four different kinds of ceremonies in one? The real question is how long will it take for her to recover.” Tevres explained.

“Oh.  _ Oh.  _ And I brought the woman responsible for it. You must think I’m a huge asshole.” Rook said, clutching the Aether totem in her fist hard enough to hurt. The Eliksni fixed her with a stern look.

“No, not really. The loss hurt, more than any we’ve suffered, but there are plenty among us with higher body counts than her.” Tevres said. “Actually, I personally think that you’re very brave. Brave and kind and loyal. And I admire that.” ... _ Oh. _ “You wouldn’t have that token if I were the only one who did. You have a place here.” She opened a door to a small room, plainly decorated, with Rook’s gear stashed on the shelves lining the back wall. “Here, specifically. There will be plenty of time to get you moved in later, but if you aren’t ready…”

Rook stepped into the room, and heard Maya’s words again. _ You’re finally home. But only if you want to be. _ “Soon.” She rolled the heart-shaped token over in her hand. Like the heart she was gonna tear out of the monster that started the whole chain of misery. “I have something I have to finish first.”


End file.
